Rear Window

I spend much of my time in this little office of mine, gazing out at the world as it looms ever nearer.  If we were to stay here I would have to leave the blinds closed.  I would have to move things about a bit so that my many hours of idle gawking could henceforth be spent shiftlessly staring out of the front window, onto the road and the small grassy area that lies beyond it.  There is life there and it is not forcing itself ever forward into the forefront of my vision.

The tiny grass sward occupies a street corner and is a regular haunt of dog-walkers and thus, frequently a doggy toilet.  This is a village filled with Responsible Dog Owners (RDO), so it is unusual to find anything left behind when they have moved on, but the relationship between dumping dog and RDO is always an illuminating watch.  The dogs, of course, are oblivious to the niceties of village life.  They tense themselves into the delivery squat, back legs quivering with the effort of it all and the RDOs immediately cast their eyes around all over-looking windows, scanning for on-lookers whilst simultaneously searching their pockets for poo-bags.  They all have them, but in the heat of the moment, appear to forget exactly where they last put them.  The dog, at this point, invariably takes the opportunity to risk a peek into the owner’s eye.  You can sense the “Am I doing O.K. here?” in the canine glance, in answer to which the RDO invariably offers words of encouragement which, I suspect, the dog could probably manage perfectly well without.

Time passes.  RDOs distance themselves from the straining beast, pretending for all they are worth that they are completely unaware of what is happening at the other end of the leash.  …And then the job is done.  The dog will turn to admire what it has deposited before backing away in order to allow the RDO to pick it up, barely able to disguise the sneer on its face, “So, who’s the boss now, then?  You don’t catch me cleaning up shit after you, do you?”  Master seldom cleans servant’s arse.

Now is the time for the RDO to make a very ostentatious show of removing every single molecule of excrement from the grass.  If homeowners are looking on, it doesn’t take too much imagination to visualize any remaining staining being removed from odorous sod by human tongue if necessary.  Appearances must be kept up.  Only when the steaming contamination has been scrupulously cleaned is the mutt allowed back in for a quick sniff whilst the bag is knotted and dangled, perilously, from the lead’s plastic handle, where it will stay, in plain sight, declaring to everyone they pass “Look at this bag of shit, you can see exactly how responsible this RDO is.”  The bag, dependent upon availability, will subsequently be placed in the dog refuse bin, the next-door neighbour’s domestic waste bin, a convenient hedge or the post box…

I will miss it all when we move.  The new house is a bungalow – I will not be able to look down on anything – it is in a Cul-de-sac and my new office is at the back.  I will, perforce, return to navel-gazing for inspiration, but at least I can do that without even opening the blinds…